


It Was Tuesday

by AlternativeUniverses (Lashtonisall)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also Sam isn't really in the story, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, But they're mentioned, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know if either of those really apply, M/M, Suicidal Tendencies, Train Station, but he's mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6184462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lashtonisall/pseuds/AlternativeUniverses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Dean share an apartment, and get coffee every morning from Max Java, a cute little coffeehouse where everyone's favorite cute little redhead baristas. It's just another Tuesday for Cas and Dean... until it's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, ducklings! It's me again, with another healthy helping of angst for the growing mind. 
> 
> Thank you to my lovely Beta, emiliasaurus-rex53, for helping me crunch this out.
> 
> And, without further ado, enjoy this "train wreck of emotions"

It was Tuesday. 

The morning began the same as any other. Castiel Novak woke up in his full sized bed, covered by a dark grey duvet, and laying atop two pillows outfitted with matching shams. _Hmm_ , Castiel thought to himself, remembering an article he had recently read discussing the correlation between sleeping with more than one pillow and an increased risk of depression. _I wonder if there’s any truth to that? If there were, Dean would be very depressed._ Cas thought of his roommate, who slept with close to ten pillows. He quickly shrugged off his thoughts before stretching his arms toward the ceiling of his moderately sized bedroom and rolling his shoulders backwards. With a sigh, Castiel got out of bed. He pulled on a pair of running shorts and a hoodie, running one hand through his unruly dark hair. Cas exited his bedroom and padded his socked feet down Dean and his apartment’s hallway, nearly running into his roommate in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Woah, there. You okay, Cas?” Dean questioned, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Castiel only grunted in affirmation and covered his mouth with one sweater-pawed fist before letting out a yawn that could wake the dead. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Dean chuckled. “Your week for coffee runs,” the taller man reminded Castiel of his morning duty for the week. The two of them had worked out a system after they discovered their mutual affinity for the coffeehouse down the street from their apartment complex. They would take turns grabbing the morning coffee in one-week intervals. After all, as young adults of the twenty first century, the two roommates basically lived on freshly brewed caffeine. In fact, their coffee runs had become so routine that even the fiery first shift barista at Max Java, Charlie, had memorized their orders. 

Castiel slipped on his black Nike running shoes before grabbing his keys from the bowl by door, and slipping into the apartment complex hallway. Cas yawned once more, catching the beginnings of a soft chuckle before closing the door behind him. He rolled his eyes before walking down the hallway and stairs, then out of the complex door. Dean had rubbed off on Cas in more ways then one. From convincing the man to partake in the transition of sleeping with one pillow to sleeping with two, to small habits such as the implementation of eye rolling in his interactions. _Where would I be without Dean_ , Cas pondered. _Who would I be without Dean?_ Castiel’s legs carried him to Max Java on autopilot, desperate to reach their source of caffeine. When Cas finally emerged from the depths of his mind, he was staring at a smiling redheaded girl, dressed in a black apron with “Max Java” stitched across the front. 

“Sup bitches?” the girl greeted, “Wait, Dean isn't with you. Sup bitch?” 

Cas laughed warmly before replying, “Morning, Charlie.” 

“The usual?” Charlie asked. Castiel hummed in approval, and Charlie turned and began to brew an extra large caramel macchiato with two extra shots of espresso for Cas, and one large black coffee to go, Dean's usual. “That’ll be-“

“I know, six fifteen.” Cas cut in, having memorized the price of his coffee. “I still think it’s a bit ridiculous that a cup of regular coffee costs two and a half dollars here, but four dollars at Starbucks. Not to mention my Caramel Macchiato. You know they charge me almost six bucks for that thing?”

“You’re not wrong,” Charlie laughed, “but it does mean that I get to see your happy face every morning.” She teased. “Ooh! I love this song!” Charlie squealed as the opening chords of some love ballad from the 90’s began to ring out over the speaker system in the coffeehouse. She handed Castiel his coffee as he smiled softly at her. Charlie sang along with the melancholy voiced man crooning about what he’d be for his lover as Cas began to sip his coffee. “You know,” Charlie started in, giggling a beat before continuing, “This song kind of reminds me of you and Dean.”

Cas nearly spat his hot coffee on the front counter at Charlie’s statement, his eyes nearly as big as saucers. “ _What?_ ”

“What? You don’t think so?” Charlie questioned, cocking her head slightly to the side as she raised one eyebrow. “I think it’s fitting. Not quite Dean’s style, sure, but I think he could learn to like it.”

“Charlie!” Cas quickly interjected, stopping the redhead’s audible thoughts in their tracks.

“Huh?” The girl startled, almost as if she had gotten so lost in her thoughts that she had forgotten Castiel was there. 

“Dean and I… Aren’t together. Like that.” Castiel explained choppily.

“What do you mean? Like you aren’t a couple? Of course you are!” Charlie ranted. 

“We’re not a couple, Charlie. Where did you even get that idea?” Cas questioned, almost confused.

“Where did I… Have you even _seen_ the way you look at each other?”

“The way we look at each other?” He was definitely confused now.

“ _Yes_! He looks at you like you hung the friggin’ moon in the sky, and you look at him like he’s the cure to friggin’ _cancer_ or something!” Charlie was apparently so passionate about this issue that it required her yelling now.

“Oh my god,” Castiel whispered to himself as a sudden realization struck him. “Oh my god. Charlie! I have to go.” He grabbed Dean’s coffee and snapped a quick to go lid on his own before giving Charlie a quick wave and rushing down the block, not noticing the lack of a black ’87 Impala in his and Dean’s designated parking spot in the lot that meant Cas was required to park his car on the street. 

Castiel ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he rushed to reveal his newfound feelings to Dean, consequences be damned. He threw open the door to their apartment and immediately called out to his roommate and newfound object of affection. “Dean!” Cas received no response, so he closed the door and walked deeper into the apartment, toward Dean’s room. Cas knocked on Dean’s bedroom door, before calling out again, “Dean,” and again, receiving no reply. He knocked once more on the solid wood of the door before opening it, only to find the room unoccupied. Dean was out. Castiel’s confession would have to wait, because this was not the sort of thing he was going to reveal to Dean over the phone. 

Cas sighed, walking back to the kitchen and setting the coffee in his hands down on the kitchen table before running both hands through his hair, a nervous habit he had also contracted from Dean. He turned to face the counter, and suddenly caught a glimpse of white. Castiel turned toward the small object, which he could now see was a folded up piece of paper, and approached it. He picked up what he assumed was a note for him, seeing his name scrawled on the front, and unfolded it before beginning to read.

_Cas,_  
I hope this note doesn’t make you feel guilty. It’s not your fault, I swear. But I just can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired of it all, Cas. I’m going to end it. I’ve gone to the train station. Please, whatever you do, don’t try to stop me. I wrote this note, because I needed to tell you something. I know you don’t feel the same, but I just needed you to know how I feel. I love you, Cas. And not just as a friend, not as a brother. I’m in love with you, Cas.  
Forever Yours,  
Dean 

“FUCK!” Castiel screamed out into the empty apartment. “Shit!” Cas threw the note down on the counter and ran back outside, to his car, as quickly as he could. He jammed the key into the car’s ignition and threw it into drive, ignoring the speed limits as he rushed to the train station. The first train of the morning was due to arrive at six thirty-five, Cas recalled. He glanced down at his car’s clock display, the numbers 6:33 staring up at him. “Fuck!” Cas exclaimed again, pushing the gas pedal almost to the floor as he ran a red light. He was still a minute away from the station, at least. “Goddammit!” 

Castiel had the urge to cry, but fought back the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. _I can’t cry now and risk wasting valuable time. I need to get to Dean before he does anything stupid._ The thought brought the smallest of smiles to Castiel’s face. Dean, the self-deprecating bastard, had always been so incredibly selfless. He put everyone else first. His parents, his brother Sam, even Castiel. Cas had no idea what he’d done to deserve such a wonderful best friend, but he sure as hell knew that he wasn’t letting go of him without a fight.

Cas reached the train station at 6:34, and threw his car into park. He slammed his car door open, not bothering to shut it as he broke into a dead sprint toward the train platform. He could just hear the whistle ringing out, breaking through the silence and the brisk air like a bullet shattering glass. 

“Dean, NO!” Castiel shouted as the Winchester came into view, teetering on the very edge of the platform. “DON’T!” He could see the tear tracks that trailed down Dean’s face, the early morning sunlight glinting off of them. Dean raised his right hand and waved sadly, once, to Castiel. Castiel fell to his knees, about ten feet from where the train would be passing shortly. “I SWEAR TO _GOD_ DEAN!” Castiel shouted just before he saw Dean lift one foot heavily, and then Cas’s vision was too clouded with tears to give him any information. Suddenly, Cas felt a rush of air fly past his face, and he knew the train was passing. Castiel keeled over, scraping one cheek on the hard cement of the platform, and began to sob. 

As Castiel cried out on the ground of the empty train platform, he mourned. He mourned the love he never had the chance to discover. He mourned the friendship he had built with Dean. He mourned the man who had taught him the meaning of family. He mourned the warmth of Dean’s green eyes, the cheekiness and humor in every smirk, the way his laugh felt like caramel washing over you, warm and rich, and the way he looked when Cas baked him fresh pie, like he had given Dean the entire world on a platter and he was entirely unworthy. He mourned the life they would never get to build together; the kisses they would never share, the embraces that would never be more than friendly, the touches that would never be anything but vivid imagination. He mourned the home they had built, the routines that had set. He mourned everything.

And then he heard a strangled shout. 

“Cas!” Castiel heard again, and he was half convinced that he was hallucinating. He hiccupped out one last half-sob, before wiping his right eye with a clenched fist and opening it. There was Dean. Alive. In one piece. Standing just on the other side of the train platform. Dean crossed the now empty train tracks, coming to stand directly in front of Castiel. Cas quickly wiped his left eye and stared up at Dean, before yanking the Winchester down onto the floor of the train platform and nearly strangling him in a hug.

“You bastard!” Castiel shouted. “How could you!” 

“I didn’t think you cared.” Dean admitted sheepishly as Cas pulled out of his death grip embrace. 

“What the _fuck_ , Dean?” Castiel didn’t quite yell. “Why in the hell wouldn’t I care? Even if I didn’t love you, you’re still my best friend!”

“Well-wait.” Dean cut himself off, “Even if you didn’t?”

“God. Of course you would focus on that.” Cas said in mock-anger as a smile crawled onto his face. He leaned into Dean, tucking his chin into Dean’s shoulder before whispering, “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

And suddenly, everything was okay. Cas and Dean were both soaked with tears, sitting on the ground of a train platform, and they were both scratched up, and broken, but they were okay. Because they had each other, and that was all they had ever really needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, I hoped you enjoyed your ride on the roller coaster of broken dreams! If you want, you can find me on Tumblr as snowybanding (or not), my inbox is always open for prompts!
> 
> Until next time, ducklings!


End file.
